Fever Dreams
by Starrylizard
Summary: Tomas is worn thin and falls ill. Luckily, Marcus is around. No specified time, but I imagine it takes pace in the missing 6 months between season 1 and 2.


Title: Fever Dreams

Author: Starrylizard

Fandom: The Exorcist (TV)

Rating: Gen, PG

Characters: Marcus and Tomas

Word Count: ~1730

Summary: Tomas is worn thin and falls ill. Luckily, Marcus is around. No specified time, but I imagine it takes pace in the missing 6 months between season 1 and 2.

Notes: No spoilers as I don't know any. Thank you to **leoraine** and **lark_ascends** for encouragement and beta bits. Any mistakes are totally mine. Constructive criticism, comments, discussion all welcome.

* * *

When it was all over, a demon was dispelled and a family left to pick up the pieces. When it was all over, they left. Quietly. No fanfare. They stumbled out into the midday sun, blinking in the unexpected brightness. Tomas leaned on Marcus for a moment as if the weight of it all was too much to bear.

"You alright, Tomas?"

Tomas grunted in a non-committal way. He looked up just long enough to make eye contact. His eyes were tired, red-rimmed, haunted.

"It doesn't feel like a victory," he said and looked away.

"It rarely does," Marcus replied.

They made it to the pick-up in silence. Marcus watched Tomas carefully, lending a hand to push him up into the passenger side. The door creaked shut and he walked to the driver side. By the time the engine growled to life, Tomas was slumped against the passenger door in a pretence of sleep. His head was pressed tightly against the cool window and it gave Marcus comfort to see the glass fogging up with each breath.

How long had it been since he'd slept? Since either of them had, but Tomas most of all. His visions, late-night reconnaissance, and anxious fears had kept him from sleep long before this latest exorcism.

They didn't have any new leads. There was currently only silence from their contacts in the church and it left them cut off from the Vatican. He decided to just put a little distance between the events of the last week, find a motel, and sleep. They could figure out the rest from there.

He thought Tomas just needed some time to process, and even more time to sleep, but as the pick-up trundled onward toward the night, Tomas had remained out for the count and Marcus' worry grew exponentially. Tomas was usually the one who wanted to talk, debrief and confess after each exorcism. He'd grown used to being the younger man's sounding board. His silence this time was odd, but watching Tomas twitch and mumble in his sleep made him edgy.

"No, no, no," Tomas whispered, shifting closer to the window with a soft moan.

Marcus, reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze, pleased when Tomas relaxed some and his breathing settling back down into a deeper version of sleep.

They'd need to stop soon. Marcus could feel his back cramping just looking at Tomas sliding down to curl lower into the seat. The next motel on this road would be the lucky recipient of two worn out exorcists.

* * *

"Time to rise and shine."

Tomas shifted in his sleep, sliding on the seat. He felt hot and cold all at once and his throat was scratchy, his skin too tight, but it wasn't enough to make him want to open his eyes and acknowledge the annoyingly familiar voice in his ear.

A cold hand pressed his forehead and he shivered, backing away on instinct, eyes suddenly wide.

"Hey, hey. Tomas, it's just me." Marcus held his hands up in a placating gesture. The sort you would use when a skittish animal was about to bolt. "I've got us a room with twin beds, a tv of some sort and a shower. Our own piece of paradise if you just walk through the door."

Tomas stared blankly at Marcus, making sense of the words in his fuzzy head. His brow creased with confusion.

"You with me?" Marcus asked. Tomas sensed the worried edge to the question and realised he hadn't answered yet.

"Marcus, yes. Of course."

"Right then. Let's get you inside."

Tomas blinked tired eyes, getting the message this time, but a little unsure how to will his body into action. He began to force his heavy limbs into some sort of motion and Marcus seemed to do the rest, manhandling him out of the pick-up and hoisting him up under one armpit.

"We need to start feeding you less if I'm going to be carrying your highness around from now on."

Tomas grinned, then coughed and slumped down on the bed nearest the door with a sigh.

"As one of my older parishioners used to say, I think I have the dreaded lurgy, Marcus."

"You also have a knack for stating the bleedin' obvious, you know. Get comfy and I'll go get us some food."

Marcus returned to the motel, grocery bags in each hand as he fumbled with the overly large key fob. With Tomas apparently unwell and no specific destination in mind, he'd got enough supplies for a few days; figured they'd settle in for a bit while they figured out their next move.

As the door cracked open though, he got an immediate sense that things weren't quite right. A mumbling came from the shifting lump that was Tomas occupying the nearest bed.

"Tomas?"

"The power of Christ compels you," Tomas mumbled.

Marcus flicked on the light.

"Tomas, you alright?" He left the bags on the floor and made his way to the bedside. "Tomas?"

Tomas rolled toward the light. "The power of Christ," he mumbled louder. "The power of Christ compels you." The last came out as a gasp as Tomas' eyes opened revealing white filmy lenses.

"Tomas. Hey, wake up Tomas. Come back." Marcus reached for the younger man's shoulders, then wrenched Tomas towards him by his shirt front. "Come back!" he roared with the authority only an exorcist could muster, anger and fear taking form in his words.

Tomas stuttered in his mumbling, then blinked rapidly. The white film receded from his eyes like smoke in the wind leaving only confused brown eyes staring up at Marcus' concerned face.

"Marcus? Marcus, they're in danger. Marcus, we need to go… we need to…" Tomas coughed, and clawed at Marcus' shirt front. He simultaneously tried to pull away. "We need to."

"Hey, we need to nothing. You're sick we're staying here for now, okay." Marcus allowed his hands to unclench from Tomas' shirt almost sheepishly, but let one hand linger on the sweat-soaked fabric before pulling away entirely as Tomas also released Marcus' shirt. "We're staying here."

Marcus carefully didn't ask what Tomas had seen. He wasn't sure he could resist the temptation of the chase, especially with no direction from the church to guide them. But Tomas wasn't in any state to fight demons and he shuddered to think whether that weakness was being exploited by someone or _something_ right now.

"We're staying right here. Sleep, okay."

Tomas looked as if he were about to fight, but lost the battle with his heavy eyelids before he could really start anything. "We need to help them, Marcus. We need to…"

"Get some rest, Tomas."

* * *

 _It's okay to have doubt. It's okay to have questions. When God gives you a job to do... There once was a cat with feet made of cloth and upside-down eyes… you have to drop everything… It hurts… Shame is a weapon; the demon will use it... You're being manipulated by forces you can't even begin to understand… and just start walking._

Tomas awoke with a start, gasping for air and opened his eyes to darkness thick enough that for a moment he wondered if his eyes were open at all.

A small bedside light flicked on nearby. Dim, yet blinding, and somehow terribly comforting as it chased away the nightmare. It left only after images and a sense of dread.

"You okay?"

"Yes, just a bad dream, I think." Tomas found his voice came out as a croak; he swallowed and that hurt too.

He'd been dreaming, remembering some of the events of last year, like a skipping montage in nightmare form.

"Yeah. Another nightmare."

"Another one?"

A hand reached up and gave him a solid pat. It was only then Tomas realised the voice had come from right beside him. Marcus was sitting, propped up against the side table next to his bed. From the groan he made as he pushed himself up, he'd probably been there for a while too. Marcus stretched and stood, a concerned look heightening the creases around his face in the dim light.

"Yeah another one. You don't remember? I'm not surprised really, you've been pretty out of it. What was it this time?"

"Nothing really, just bits and pieces. Memories of our meeting, the visions that brought me to you."

Marcus shrugged. "It always comes back to the visions."

"Sorry?" Sometimes talking to Marcus could be like listening to one side of a conversation. He missed out important details.

"The nightmares. When you care to explain them, they always come down to your visions."

Tomas coughed, but managed to control it. He sat up, noting how tired he felt, his arms shaking to support his weight as he pushed himself up.

"How long have we been here, Marcus?"

"Long enough. I made some food if you can stomach it. It's all microwaved, but better than vending machine junk at least." He moved to the small table in the room and picked up a bowl, offering it to Tomas.

Tomas accepted the bowl, microwave chicken soup, with a small nod of thanks. He was suddenly ravenous. He bowed his head to say a quiet Grace.

"God bless this microwave soup and the messed-up blokes eating it, amen."

Tomas looked up at the words to note Marcus had also picked up a bowl for himself. He grinned and gave a wink as he slurped down a large spoonful.

Tomas snorted gently, trying not to choke on the first mouthful, but finally He swallowed it down. "Don't be blasphemous, Marcus," he chided, but couldn't hide his own grin.

"Marcus?"

"Yeah?"

Marcus gave him a look that said he'd definitely noted the more tentative, yet serious tone of Tomas' voice.

"I don't know why, but I have these _other_ images in my head. I think… I have this feeling - I know where we need to go next."

"I thought you might," Marcus replied. A sad but resigned look crossed his face as he deliberately concentrated on the soup rather than make eye contact. "How about food and shower first, though. Then we'll talk next moves."

Tomas sipped his own soup thoughtfully, surprised by the other man's lack of questions, but too tired to complain. Instead he looked until he caught Marcus' eyes and smiled tiredly.

"Thank you."

**END**


End file.
